So hard to let a child go

Reader Jodi DeSantis-Helming lives in East Meadow.

Ahhhh . . . the joy of dropping your children off at summer camp.

I think back to the start of summer 2010. We are prepared. Backpack, lunch, snacks, bathing suit, goggles, towel, sandals, sunscreen, change of clothes, extra underwear and socks.

I am prepared too, that is, prepared to actually spend some time taking care of myself -- a manicure, maybe even a pedicure, and then a grande latte and a chance to sit down and read the newspaper.

My boys -- Logan, then age 8, and Payson, 7 -- go to Merrick Woods camp in East Meadow. It's beautiful. There's baseball, soccer, swimming, rock climbing, and arts and crafts.

"You sure are going to have fun here!" I shout enthusiastically as I follow just a half step behind Logan, moving my eyes back and forth, looking around anxiously.

The camp director approaches us with information. "The 8-year-old boys' group, B8, meets each morning at the baseball field," he says. "I'll take him there now."

"Oh. Can't I take him?" I ask, trying to disguise the begging in my voice.

"Just go, Mom," Logan says, kind of annoyed and maybe even slightly embarrassed.

"Oh. OK. Have fun!" I manage to say, with a huge lump in my throat and tears welling up in my eyes.

How ridiculous. I am going to pick him up in six hours. I thought I was prepared for this. What is the big deal? I am just crushed that my little boy said, "Just go, Mom."

All of a sudden, I am brought back to that unforgettable and incredibly vivid moment 27 years ago when my parents drove me 12 hours from our home in Bellerose, Queens, and dropped me off at the University of Michigan.

"See you later, Mom," is what I said. And my mom never forgot it. Later I found out that she was incredibly offended. But there I was -- 40,000 people my age, an absolutely stunning campus, and as I saw it, the world at my fingertips. And that is what mattered to me.

"See you later, Mom," I had said, casually, kind of expecting my mom to get a bit emotional but be strong. Instead, she burst into tears and cried uncontrollably. I was secretly mortified, hoping that no potential boyfriends were walking by at that moment, anxious to begin my incredible college life.

"Mom, it'll be OK," I said. "I'll be home before you know it."

I didn't really mean, "See you later, Mom." What I meant was, "Thank you. Thank you for your incredible unselfishness and unconditional love that got me here. Thank you for this greatest opportunity ever! And don't worry. I'll be OK. You have taught me well."

But from a 17-year-old girl, that comes out as, "See you later, Mom." And from an 8-year-old boy, as, "Just go, Mom."

Oh, the pain of letting your children go.